


VOID 2.0

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack, Don't Judge Me, F/M, I don't know what I'm doing, M/M, THERE IS WIFI IN THE VOID, this fic is out of control
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melkor found a laptop in the void...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An open Window

[Somewhere in the Void.]

Boring, boring, boring… Why is it so boring? There is nothing to do nor to break, no one to annoy… *sighs* I wonder what Mairon is doing… Is he thinking about me? Of course he is. I shouldn’t question that fact.

Why is it so cold? Fuck you Manwë! You could have given me a blanket at least! And not this ugly sweater you made! I don’t need such a humiliation.

Boring… For how long have I been here? Hom many ages? I should- Oooooh, what is that? It looks like a sort of machinery with… buttons and letters on it. I wonder what would happen if I’d push that button… Should I try? I have nothing to lose anyway…  
…  
…  
…  
WOOOOOO ! The colours changed ! “Windows… ?" It doesn’t look like a window to m- OOH! Something else! Fuck what am I supposed to do with it? Shake it maybe… Wait a second. If I put my finger here and move it, something move there… hmm interesting.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
[A few hours later]

*sings loudly* TROLOLOLOOOOO HOOHOHOO This Mr. Trololo is an amazing minstrel! If I get out of here I’d probably hire him. I need more artists like him around me.

 

Let’s go back to this Google-thing… Apparently cats are ruling this world… Kittens… Cute little kittens….  
All the things I could do from here If I had a kitten… With only one video, I’d become the ruler of this human world…

Wait, what is this? Tum-blr? Stupid name. And this blue is awful, reminds of this asshole Nolofinwë… Seems boring, just like him.  
Hm, lots of gay things here… Mairon would lite it. Ugh no, too many dramas…Tumblr is definitely not for me.

Let’s see this other page… Videos again…  
These humans… Are they doing what I think they are doing?  
How many are they?  
Is that a hand? No. Definitely not a hand.  
….  
Should I take some notes? Mairon would like that.  
Hey hello you…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
[A few more hours later]

Cats, cats, cats, boobs, cats, pretty ass, cats, boobs. *sighs* And goats. Goats who scream, goats who freeze, goats who crave for some kind of minerals… Could it be a Silmaril?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
[Much later]

So that what we need to win this world? No armies? No balrogs? No dragons? Only cats and naked people?  
What is that 'Low battery’? You are the low battery asshole! Wait no! No come back, I was only joking! Come back!!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
[Much much much later]

An army of kittens… And maybe some puppies too. Puppies are cute. They would do so many damages with their big eyes and cute little noses. What about some pandas? Red pandas! yeah Melk, that’s a terrific idea!

I can already imagine the scene: Invading Valinor with all those little creatures! They would strangle Manwë during his sleep and I would be the only king of a world filled with kittens, boobs and pretty asses…Mairon would love it.


	2. The secrets of Tumblr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor's internal monologue.  
> \+ emails.

[Somewhere in the Void]

It works again! Did Manwë do something from where he is or is it my lucky day? Anyway. Where was it again… Ah yes the picture of this cute little red fox and…Googlething!

Let’s try something… How do you use these letters? M-E-L-K-O-R. I wonder what they have to say about me… Wikipedia… *reads* Wait… Who is this JRR Tolkien? An elven ministrel probably. ‘Most powerful of th Ainue’, yes, that’s right…. Wait… that’s not exactly how it happened. What? No, that’s totally wrong. I don’t know where this Tolkien found its sources, but they were not entirely reliable. And I didn’t flee, I forgot my favourite cloak and I needed it to face Manwë properly. It has nothing to do with fleeing ‘into the deepest pit of Angband’! And I didn’t ‘beg for pardon’! This Tolkien was definitely an elf. Too stupid to understand the subtleties of my plan… If it failed, it’s only because of the crown. It was too heavy. And it shouldn’t have got tangled into the curtains. 

 

Let’s go back to Google since Wikithing is totally wrong… Oh, pictures! Let’s see… Hmm… No, I’m 150% more sexy than this. This artist obviously never saw me…. Is that Ungo? They didn’t show her at her best…. I don’t look like that neither…. Ah, I look good on this one! But the crown didn’t look like this. Stupid mortals…. 

And there… it’s me and Mairon! Wait. What are we doing? *tilts his head* Are we…? Oh Eru, how do they know? Mairon surely wasn’t loud enough to be heard from so far! I wonder what would happen if I clicked on it… Tumblr again… 

… Angbang ? Not it’s ANGBAND you dumb mortal. With a D! 

Why do they all talk about angbang…?  
…  
…  
…  
OOOOOOH! I got it! *laughs and clicks on the angbang tag*  
…  
…  
…

What the… What am I doing to Mairon? And what the fuck is he doing to me?

[Two hours later]

So how does this email work? ‘Type your message’… Ok.   
“Dear Mairon,  
I hope everything is fine in Mordor. Did you get your ring back?  
I have found something in the void which seems to be a window on another world. It is fascinating. They have this blue place called Tumblr where they talk a lot about us. They even put us under a file called ANGBANG. Isn’t it great?  
I send you some of the pictures I found, maybe it will give you some ideas for our next meeting (hopefully before the end of the next age.)  
I love you babe.  
Your big Vala, Melkor aka Morgoth aka Bauglir etc”

Oh shit… I don’t know Mairon’s email address. Eerrrr, let’s try this one… ‘Gorthaurthecruel@barad-dur.mordor’…  
So, where was I? Ah yes, Tumblr…. Oh Manwë is there too! *scrolls lazily through the Manwe tag* Why is he naked?… Is that me? Naked too? *turns pale* Oh no no no no no no no no no no! I must pretend I didn’t see it. I must erase this picture from my memories! 

Unless… 

It could be useful…

[20 minutes later.]

To birdyguy@taniquetil.aman from mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid

“Dear Brother,  
I was using this little window I found in the void, where I discovered these pictures. I don’t know what you think of them, but I must confess I find them hilarious.  
I wonder how Varda would react if someone accidentally sent them to her… Or if, for instance, all our dear valarin friends received them… Accidentally. It would be very embarassing, especially for you.  
Maybe we could talk about it, don’t you think ?   
You know where to find me.  
Your big bro, Melk’.

PS : Say hi to daddy.”

This should be clear enough. If he doesn’t free me from this place before the end of the week, Valinor will have a new trending topic. Oh! I received an email! My first email! I’m so excited!

To mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid from thegreateye@barad-dur.mordor

“Dear Master,  
OMGGGGGG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HAVE AN EMAIL ADDRESS TOO! ヽ( ★ω★)ノ 

I thought the other Palantiri were destroyed! WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I FUCKING MISS YOU!  
Omfg the pics are perfect, we look so fab! We should totally try this position asap. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)   
The ring is still missing tho. (╥﹏╥) I’ve heard a hobbit took it.  
When do you come back ?  
I love you,  
Your lovely Maia, Mairon aka Gorthaur aka Sauron etc

PS : please do not use Gorthaurthecruel@barad-dur.mordor nor fabannatar@gwaithimírdain.eregion These addresses will be deleted soon.”

A hobbit…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mairon and emojis is now a thing.


	3. Mailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what's happening.
> 
> NSFW for this chapter because of the mentions of some activities.

From birdyguy@taniquetil.aman to mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid

My dear brother,  
I was sure you would like this laptop after so many ages in the Void! I have one too and I spend so many nights watching videos of kittens and puppies. Have you seen the one with the kitten that falls alseep in the mortal’s hand? It is so cute!   
Varda doesn’t want me to stay on Youtube for too long, she says we never know what we could find there. I think she installed a software for parental control on my browser, just in case. I really don’t know why, I mean, I can handle a bit of violence, can’t I?  
How are you? I hope you are not too cold over there. I can send you a sweater if you wish. Eonwë found your old one in the ruins of Angband, but I would be happy to make you a new one.  
The pictures you sent me are very funny! But I’m not sure I understand them… Do they show us playing Twister? I usually wear my clothes when I play Twister but I suppose it could be fun to play naked – though Varda says I should not take off my robes anymore - not publicly I mean, because I can still take them off when I take a bath of course! Do you take off your clothes when you play Twister with Mairon? And when you take a bath?  
Anyway, I do not see why these pictures would be sent to Varda nor to anyone. You said “accidentally”… I know mistakes can happen sometimes, but I aslo know you are too clever to make this kind of mistakes.  
I miss you xxxx   
You little brother, Manny

PS : Daddy is still mad at you. I’m so sorry…

 

From mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid to birdyguy@taniquetil.aman

Manwë, My dear brother,  
You know how much I care for you and this is why I must inform you that accidents happen more often than you think, and they have nothing to do with cleverness. This is why I have an offer for you. Take me out of the void and I promise you I will do y best to prevent these accidents. Imagine how angry Varda would be if she saw pictures of you playing Twisterwithout any clothes. You would probably be grounded to your room, without desert. It would be terrible,  wouldn’t it ? I am your older brother and my duty is to protect you from this misfortune. And If you take me out of here, I’ll ask mairon to bake your favorite cake.  
Also, I don’t need any sweaters, keep them for Aulë.  
Your favorite brother, Melk

PS : Tell dad to fuck off  
PPS : What is a hobbit ? 

 

From thegreateye@barad-dur.mordor to mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid  


WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY TO MANWE ?  ＼(｀0´)／   
WHY DOES THIS ASSHOLE SEND ME A MESSAGE ASKING ME TO BAKE HIM A CARROT CAKE “WITH A LOT OF  VANILLA CREAM?”  
FUCK YOU MELKOR!  
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE AGAIN ?  
I DON’T WANT THIS BIRDYBRAIN IN MY INBOX AGAIN, AM I CLEAR?  
I love you,  
Mairon

 

From mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid to thegreateye@barad-dur.mordor

STOP SCREAMING AT ME I’M TRYING TO GET OUT OF HERE.  
I love you too,  
Melkor.

PS : Is there a dragon I could borrow you for a few weeks days ?

 

From mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid to birdyguy@taniquetil.aman  
*sends new nsfw pictures of himselft and Manwë + a smutty fanfic*

 

From birdyguy@taniquetil.aman to mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid

My darling brother,  
What a funny story you sent me! I asked Eonwe to read it to me before I went to sleep. He didn’t want to read it entirely – it was already so late- but I really likes the beginning! Hopefully he will read the rest tonight! I wonder what will happen with this iron collar! I suppose it’s a new game! Ah! The suspense is almost unbearable ! XD  
Eon wanted to know who sent me this story but I said it was secret. It is something between you and me, isn’t it Melk? Like when we were young… do you remember all the secrets we shared?  
I would love to take you out of the Void, and have you here to protect me against these accidents - The consequences seem to be terrible-, but Varda said it was a bad idea. You know how she is… always so worried about me. Sometimes I wonder if she’s not jealous of our relationship. Though, she had no reason to, because you are my brother and she is my beautiful starlight. Eon seems worried too. Maybe you could send them emails, just to tell them there is no big deal.   
I sent an email to Mairon, but he hasn’t replied yet. Shall I sent him an eagle, so he could give him the cake and bring it back to Aman?   
You little bird, Manwë  
PS :  Hobbits are little creatures living in holes in the Shire. They have pointy ears and big feet. I love them!

 

From  mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid to birdyguy@taniquetil.aman

Manwë,  
I don’t know how to make it more clear.  
These pictures don’t show us playing Twister, the story is not about a new kind of game (well, not really).   
All these things I sent you compromise your integrety since they show us having sex. You know, sex, smut, porn, fuck ? With cocks, assholes, nipples and cunts? (And also chains sometimes). Have you ever heard of it or are you too blind to see how your precious elves have fun?   
If you don’t free me from the void, I swear to daddy I will tell everyone that you sucked my dick when I was impresonned in Mandos’ halls.  
And Mairon won’t bake you any cake as long as I am stuck here!  
Deal with it.  
Bitch.  
Melkor.

PS : Hobbits sound boring. Can I eat one ?

 

From badassnodlooffire@ashes.mandoshalls to mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid and birdyguy@taniquetil.aman

Guys,  
I’m trying to make some important studies about resurrection here, so STOP PLAYING WITH THE WIFI!  
My browser keeps on freezing and internet is so slow I have the time to make another kid each time I open a new page. I SWEAR TO ERU I WILL CRUSH YOUR LAPTOPS IF YOU DON’T STOP YOUR SHIT !   
I have your IP, I know everything about your browers history, I have an access to your inboxes and your downloads (Morgoth what the fuck is this video you downloaded yersterday on youporn?), so stop that immediatly or I’ll send my sons to kick your asses.  
And Morgoth, I don’t know if it’s an accident or something, but STOP SENDING ME PICTURES OF YOU AND MANWË FUCKING. That’s so gross.  
FUCK YOU ALL,   
Curufinwë Fëanoro the Great.

PS : I read your last email, Morgoth: My people have other ways to have fun.

 

From mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid to badassnodlooffire@ashes.nowhere

Hey Fëanor!  
I found another tag on Tumblr. It’s called Fëanope.  
Look at those awesome pictures.  
Have fun,  
Melkor, the mighty Vala who is greater than Fëanor.

PS: Your people maybe, but what about your sons?


	4. The meeting

From From birdyguy@taniquetil.aman to mightymelk@beyondthedoorofnight.thevoid  
My dear borther,  
I don’t understand anything about all this. Why is Fëanor so angry? If it’s not Twister, what is it?   
You said so many bad things, I chocked on my milk while reading your email. You know what Varda say about swear words, don’t you?   
Concerning the elves, they are having fun with a lot things: flowers, jewels, kittens, hugs, a good cake with a lot of chocolate, wines… Why would they have fun with ‘assholes’ as you said?    
Listen, I have an idea. Since I do not understand what you mean, I have decided to visit you tonight. Varda and Eonwë must not know about it, because they would try to stop me, but I will come, don’t worry brother. Oh! This is so exciting!   
I love you, Mannie  
PS : Why would you eat a hobbit ?  
—————-

 

After the biggest facepalm Arda had ever seen, Melkor closed his laptop and pulled it aside. He would have the opportunity to talk to Manwë, at last, and to convince him. It shouldn’t be so difficult, especially without the intervention of Varda.  
A long while later, Melkor finally heard something, a small sound coming from the other side of the void.  
“Pssssst, Melk….”  
He didn’t reply at first, but he smirked. Oh yes he smirked, knowing perfectly the origin of the sound.  
“Melkor…?” The voice called again, a bit worried now. “Where are you?”  
Melkor’s smirk turned into a grin. He could make him wait for an age, Manwë would probably continue to call him.  
“Melkor please… It’s not funny. I’m cold here.”  
Finally the dark Vala floated in the direction of the voice, silently, and his grin disappeared as he spotted his bother’s silhouette from afar. As soon as he saw Melkor, Manwë waved his hand, a wide smile on his lips, too happy to meet him after all this time. And when Melkor reached the threshold of the Door of the Night, Manwë rushed into his arms and hugged him tightly. He was stronger than he looked, Melkor thought as always when Manwë hugged him, unable to get free from the tight embrace.   
“Melkor, I’ve missed you so much!”  
“Whose fault?”  
“Not mine.” Manwë replied with a shrug as he pulled away. “The others insisted to keep you here. They said it would be better for everyone.” He gave his brother another wide smile and continued. “Whereas I wanted to keep you with us in Valinor.“  
Melkor replied with a heavy sigh, and much to his surprise, he felt something, deep down, as his bother smiled to him, like a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. Was it comfort? Or relief? He was even tempted to smile back at him. After all these ages alone in the cold depths of the Void, Melkor couldn’t deny it felt oddly good to have someone to talk to, even if it was Manwë, and his brother’s smile seemed to have more effects on him than it should.   
The dark Vala shook his head, pulling himself together,  and cleared his throat before replying. “We need to talk–”  
“Oh yes we do! But first, I have to give you something!” As he talked, Manwë waved a hand and a something appeared in his other hand. “I thought you were missing it, and as I had some time to waste, I knitted you a second one for you!”

Melkor froze when he realized what his brother was talking about. In front of him were two awfully coloured sweaters, one that he already knew, and a new one, not less ugly than the other. He moved backwards but Manwë caught his wrist in time, and before Melkor could do anything, the Elder King was pulling him closer, putting one of the sweaters above his brother’s head and pulling it down roughly. Melkor didn’t get the time to react and before he could do anyting, the sweater was hanging  stupidly around his neck.   
“Go on, Melk!” Manwë encouraged him, taking his brother’s hand a putting it into the sleeve. “It’s so cold here, you need to cover yourself!”  
The sweater was too short, of course. The sleeves didn’t even reach his wrists and it didn’t cover his stomach.  
“I look like a cheerleader.”  
“A what?”  
“Forget it.”  
“Did you gain weight? You look bigger.”  
“Locked here with nothing to eat? How would I gain weight?”  
“They didn’t feed you?” Manwë asked, his eyes wide open in sheer surprise, obviously shocked by the discovery.  
“No they didn’t.”  
“This is very rude, I’ll talk to Eonwë about it.”   
“Fuck Eonwë.”  
“Shhh Melkor… Remember what I sais about swear words. Varda said–”  
“Fuck Varda.”  
Manwë froze, and his gaze suddenly turned cold, very cold. “Do not say that again.”  
“Say what?”  
“Do not talk about her like that.”  
Melkor chuckled, amused by his borther’s reaction and he couldn’t prevent himself from pushing him a bit further. “Fuck Var–”  
Before he could finish his sentence, Manwë tugged the sweater, bringing his brother closer and looking him sternly in the eye. “Shut up Melkor.”  
“What are going to do? Call Daddy?”   
As a reply, Manwë pulled his brother out of the void and threw him violently on the ground. The Vala was definitely stronger than he looked.   
“All I’m doing Melkor, is trying to help you, to find a solution, because you are my brother and I love you. And this is how you thank me?”  
“Because I should thank you now?” the older one replied, standing up clumsily and rubbing his back. He would surely have a bruise after that.   
“I made you sweaters…” Manwë murmured sadly, his stern look leaving as quickly as it appeared.    

Melkor looked down at the horrible piece of cloth around his chest, raising a brow. “I’ve never asked for it. And I do not need any help.”  
A cold silence fell on the two borthers, sadness clearly visible in Manwë’s features. “You did.” He whispered after a while. “That’s why I am here tonight.”  
“No, you here because of those pictures.”  
“Ooooh yes! Exactly! Tell me everything about them!”  
“Have you ever heard of incest?”  
The Vala frowned. “I… suppose I did.” He paused, pondering the situation and his own knoledge on the matter. “Ooooooh… I think I got it.“  
In relief, Melkor let out a long sigh, glad that he wouldn’t have to explain the whole thing again. But Manwë’s surprised look turned into an offended one, and he shook his head so violently the winds around them began to blow furiously, and at the same time, a terrible hurricane ruined a large part of the Shire.   
“No, no, no nonononononono! Melkor this is bad! It is awful and dirty and OH FATHER NO!”  
“I had  more or less the same reaction when I saw them the first time.”  
“NONONONONONONO!”  
“Calm down Manwë, these are just drawings. Some of them are really good I must confess, but it’s called art – fanart.”  
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Dark clouds surrounded them and the strength of the wind began to become dangerouysly threatening.   
“Manwë stop! There is no reason to panick. Nothing happpened and I’m not going to fuck you.”   
“DADDY PROBABLY SAW THEM ! AND FEANOR DID!”  
“Well… Yes…”  
“OH MY FATHER!”  
“Manwë please. You're gonna destroyed Arda.”

But manwë wasn’t listening anymore, overtaken by panick. Rolling his eyes, Melkor took his brother’s arm – as gently as he could manage- and pulled him closer, stoking his hair in soothing motions. “It’s ok Manwë, it was just a bad dream.”  
It took melkor 12 hours to calm him down, and yet, when Manwë finally pulled away, he was still trembling violently.  
“So Manwë, do you understnad why you must end my punishment?”  
“Why?”  
“Because I must… destroy this art. And if I’m locked up in the void, I can’t.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I am powerless in the void, and… I need to be totally free to… to… to do what must be done.”  
“What must be done?”  
“Many things.”  
“I… I am not sure I understand.”  
“You will, soon enough.”  
“Ah… ok. What should we do?”  
“First you close this door. Then you let me go. And you take your sweaters back. And you don’t tell anyone about all this.”  
“Alright. But you keep the sweaters.”  
—————————

From badassnodlooffire@ashes.mandoshalls to birdyguy@taniquetil.aman  
WHAT THE FUCK?  
YOU THINK I DIDN’T SEE YOU? I’m stalking your computer Manwë, and Melkor’s too; and I SAW EVERYTHING!    
So, Melkor can get out of the void while I’m still locked up in these halls? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME MANWE? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?  
GET ME OUT OF HERE!  
And tell Melkor to shove his pictures up his ass.  
The great Fëanoro Curufinwë.

PS : Please.


	5. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they're all very sane.

Manwë’s thoughts, as he goes back to the Taniquetil

Aaah, Melkor… I hope everything will be alright… I hope he won’t mess up with everyone, like the last time. He’s rude sometimes, but he’s good brother… deep inside. 

He should be alright with the sweaters, at least he won’t be cold.  
Varda will probably get mad when she’ll learn that I let him go… but what else could I do? With all these horrible pictures that threaten to be spread around Arda. No no, I made the good choice, but… Melkor told me to lie to her… How am I supposed to do that? I could tell her he’s still in the void, but she’d probably notice he’s gone… Oh, I know! I’ll tell her he was sick and he needed some fresh air. Some air. Because there’s no air in the void. Yes, I’ll say that! She will understand.

Aaaawww… It was so good to see him again!  
I hope daddy won’t be mad though… I cannot lie to him, and he must already know about all that. But he will understand, he dearly loves Melkor, even if their relationship has been a bit complicated recentl— for the past 50 000 years.

And I also hope Melkor he will be careful. We don’t need another war. He said he has to see Mairon… why does he always have to see Mairon? Why are they always together? Oh! Maybe he’ll ask Mairon to bake me that carrot cake! That would be awesome! I could share it with Melkor and I’d make him some tea and we could talk about the good old days! That will be amazing! I can’t wait!

Oh, and there’s Fëanor too… I must do something for him. Should I talk to Namo?

\----

Melkor’s thoughts, somewhere in Middle Earth.

Where am I? Arg, everything look so different from Beleriand! And Manwë didn’t let me take that machine with me, I can’t even google a map… If I remember correctly Mordor is south-east… I can’t believe that I have to walk into Mordor! I’m Melkor! The Master of the Fates of Arda I can’t simply walk into Mordor! I should arrive there on the back on a dragon, followed by fifty legions of orcs and a parade!

And why do I have to keep those sweaters with me? I could give them to someone, an elf for instance… Where are the elves by the way? They used to be everywhere! I suppose that’s not a bad thing but how am I supposed to have fun if there’s no elf to bully? Just gonna bully Mairon instead… I’m sure it’s his fault if they’re all gone.

What is this litte thing?  
Is that a hobbit?  
I’m gonna hide behind that tree and observe him… He’s eating… That looks good. Oh come on Melkor! You must focuse on your task.  
….  
I’m sure he’d be happy to share his meal with me.  
Especially if I don’t give him the choice. I can’t walk into Mordor with an empty stomach after all!

\----

Sauron’s thoughts, Barad-Dur.

He said he would come back very soon… what the fuck is he doing? ! I will not wait all night, I have things to do!  
Why is this orc so ugly…? And he doesn’t wear his armor properly… My job is not thelp the orcs putting their armors one! I’m tired of doing everything here! 

Who put that painting here? It was supposed to be in my bedroom. The portrait of Melkor has nothing to do in the throne room, he’s not the master here! He will be welcomed as a guest. It will be a diplomatic intercourse. Nothing more.

And of course, he’ll be awful as usual, telling me that I shouldn’t have lost the ring, that I shouldn’t have worn it during that battle, that I was not ready to become a dark lord…. pffft.  
He’s not even here and I’m already tired of him.

FUCK! If I find the orc who dropped this glass of wine on my beautiful carpet, I’ll eat his eyes and I’ll give the rest to Melkor.

And I’m sure he’s gonna just walk in there, with a his wide, infuriating smile, and I’d be able to do nothing because of this particular smile and also because he’s too big, and when he smiles like that I just… Aaaargh! Melkor I hate you!

And another email from Manwë concerning that stupid cake. BAKE IT YOURSELF BITCH!

\----

Fëanor’s thoughts, somewhere in the Halls of Mandos.

I can’t believe that I’m still here.  
I’m gonna burn that stupid Vala.  
I’m gonna burn the Taniquetil.  
I’m gonna burn these Halls.  
I’m gonna burn Arda.  
I’m gonna burn Iluvatar.  
And I’m gonna burn Nolofinwë.  
…  
Where the fuck are my sons?  
I need to talk to Curvo. He would understand. He’s the only one who understands me. He would help me burn everthing.

If only I hade a forge and some tools I could think about something else. But noooo. No, they had to take everything from me.  
Fuck.  
Fuck Manwë.  
Fuck Morgoth.  
Fuck Mandos.  
Fuck Nolofinwë  
Fuck that huge balrog.  
Fuck everyone.  
Except my sons. Especially Curvo.

If I get out of here, I swear I’d shove one of this eagle right into Manwë’s ass.  
Wait– Is that a light over there? Is there someone…?


	6. And Melkor simply walked into Mordor. Almost.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they met again... They tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started to wonder when this AU could be set... maybe before the War of the Ring if we accept the fact that Sauron had a body at this point.

After a good meal and the death of an unfortunate hobbit, The dark lord picked up his sweaters and walked in the direction of Mordor. Still stuck in his body with no way to change its shape, lame and weak after two ages in the cold Void – luckily he had his feet back. Manwë was stupid but he wasn't cruel – Melkor was walking slowly, avoiding the villages, except when he was hungry. On his way, he met a couple of rats and a weasel, with which he got on very well, and the beasts were always willing to find something to eat for their new big friend. The weasel brought him some dead birds and baby rabbits, while the rats stole everything they could find in the villages they passed by.

The main problem for the Dark Lord was to stay unseen; he was too tall, too loud and too clumsy for that, and discretion had never been his main strength. Discretion had always been Mairon's strength. But Mairon was locked in his tower, obviously unwilling to send him any kind of help. Melkor had to go on alone and to find his way in this unknown and threatening lands filled with hobbits, mortals and the few remaining elves that were still running here and there in the woods. 

 

With the rats on his head and the weasel on his left shoulder, the Vala managed to travel through Middle-earth, his mind filled with plans of vengence, thoughts and naughty daydreams, some of them including his dear Maia.

The biggest challenge in his adventure,was to cross the river. Ulmo could be there, waiting for him to put his injured foot into the water... Melkor couldn't swim and he had never learned how to make a ship.Yet, after hours and hours of reflections and attempts, he managed to make a raft with the help of his new friends. Who would have guessed that a pair of rats and a weasel would be so helpful in such circumstances?

Smiling joyfully, Melkor stared at his raft – what was supposed to be a raft – and absent-mindedly, he started to pat the weasel's head with more strength than he had planned. The weasel died instantly.  
“Oops... Still have problems controlling my own strength.” He muttered to himself under the astonished gaze of the two rats. “Don't worry guys, I'm not patting anybody's head anymore.” He picked up the little corpse and wrapped one of the sweaters around it, as carefully he could. “We take the body to Mordor; if Mairon is in a good mood, he'd be able to do something with it.”  
The rats nodded and jumped on the raft, though there was an obvious sadness in their eyes. Losing their friend the weasel wasn't something they were prepared for, though that was one of the risks of an adventure with the Dark Lord.

Carefully, delicately, Melkor sat on the raft, and using the paddle – a stick – he drove his ship to the other side of the river, his eyes fixed on the water, just in case. Luckily, nothing bad happened, except that one of the rats fell into the river. Melkor hated water, and it tookd several minutes before he accepted to sink his hand into the river to save the poor creature. The rat survived, and they reached the other side of the river without any other accident. It seemed that Manwë had kept his promise and hadn't told anyone about their meeting...

\--

The Vala could already smell the smoke that was escaping from Mount Doom, along with the awful smell of the orcs who were patrolling in the area. It wouldn't be difficult to make them kneel and to ask them to bring him to Barad-Dur, though Melkor was stubborn and proud and he wanted to make his way to Mordor alone, without anyone's help – except the rats and the dead weasel. He was getting closer, and he hadn't done all this to finish the road escorted by a bunch of pathetic servants. He would walk into Mordor as a brave, proud lord, the proud lord he used to be.

So they he kept on walking. The food was becoming rare and at one point, after he had been awaken at night by a terrible hunger, Melkor had eaten the dead weasel's tail. Nobody would know about it, he thought. But the rats had witnessed the scene and the day after, they were looking at the Vala with suspicion, there little eyes narrowing and their muzzles writhing doubtfully. The Vala faked to ignore the look the rodents were giving him, but after this day, everything changed between them. Something in their relationship was broken and the trust was gone.

\--

Finally, he reached the Black Gate and stared at it lengthily, impressed by the accomplishments of his Lieutenant. With a proud smirk on his face, his chin up and a rat on each shoulder, the Vala stepped towards the gate and stopped right in front of it. A heavy silence fell on the land as the orcs who were guarding the gates observed the stranger, ready to react to any threat.

After a minutes or two, the Vala spoke, his voice deep and slow. “My friends, I-- OUCH!” A black arrow had reached his shoulder, almost killing the rat that was sitting on it. Wincing, Melkor gazed at the arrow silently, concern shining in his eyes. “What was that for? HEY!!” A second arrow was now sunk in his knee, drawing a loud cursed from the Vala's lips. As a third one was being shot, Melkor reacted just in time to catch it with his already injured hand, under the astonished gaze of the orcs. “ENOUGH NOW! Can someone explain the meaning of this? A captain? an emissary? Anyone?”  
A tall orc stood on the top of the gate and growled indistinctly for a few seconds, a bow in his hand and an arrow in the other. “The master said no one should pass those gates alive.”  
“Well...” The Vala began, his eyes fixed on the arrow. “Tell your master that his master has arrived.”

Laughters escaped from behind the gates, from the top of the gates and even from under the gates (what were they keeping under the gates? The Vala wondered), and all the orcs and trolls and other creatures of the lands laughed loudly, their wet, yellow eyes on the Ainu who could do nothing but enduring this humiliation. Even the rats were laughing – as much as rat can laugh - but Melkor gave them a look that instantly forced them to stop.  
“Our Master has no master. Our Master is the greatest being in Middle-earth and he will not suffer any kind of subordination.” The tall orc stated with a twisted smile, though it was more a grimace than a smile. Melkor hadn't created the orcs to make them smile.  
“And I will not suffer your impertinence, orc! Open the gates for Melkor, the Master of the fates, and let me walk into Mordor.”  
As they heard and recognized the name and the title, they all froze, unsure of what to do, unable to know if they could trust these words and if this lame wanderer with rats on his shoulder was the actual god they were all worshipping. Nothing was more uncertain.  
“If you are the master you pretend to be, then prove it!” The orc spat, disdain dancing on his face.  
Was that a bad joke plotted by Mairon? Was he testing him? In that case, the Vala wasn't amused and he secretly began to plot his own revenge against the Maia. “I have nothing to prove. Open these gates, let me meet my lieutenant and you'll see if I'm the one I pretend to be.”

After two hours of bargaining, broken by a lot of curses and a few more arrows, the gates finally opened.  
“We keep an eye on you, master of the fates.” One of the orcs snapped, sarcasm dripping from his lips as he stressed the last words in the most scornful way.  
The race of orcs wasn't what it used to be, the Vala though. They were now pathetic, disrespectful and more stupid than the two little creatures on his shoulders. The rats, at least, were helpful. 

\--

After a few more hours of walking, and despite the large amount of orcs that were watching each single step he made, the Vala reached the high tower. On the way, he had taken off the arrows that were stuck in his flesh and he had tried not to pay attention to the big red eye on the top of the tower. This red eye that was following him through the land... Melkor couldn't help but feeling a bit uncomfortable about it. For in this eye, there was something he knew way too well. Something he hadn't missed at all, and yet, he was about to face it again: His lieutenant's wrath.

Without knocking – why would he knock?- Melkor entered the fortress and climbed the stairs which, he supposed, were leading to his Lieutenant. Before he opened the doors of the throne room , he bid the rats to hide in his sleeves, just in case - Mairon had never be fond of rodents. Dusting his dark robe and running his hand through his hair to give it a more appropriate look, the Vala finally opened the door, a wide smile on his lips. “Honey, I'm home-- Heyyyy!“

A long, sharp knife had been thrown at him and luckily, Melkor had reacted just in time to avoid it, making one quick step on his right, eyes wide open on the weapon. Holding his breath, the stared at the knife for a long while, and finally turned his head to face the one who had thrown it. “Honey... ?“

Mairon - or Tar-Mairon as he like to call himself - was sitting - laying on his dark throne, his legs resting over the armchair and his red eyes fixed on the Vala. There was no smile on his lips, no enthusiasm in his eyes, not even a single trace of joy.  
“Ma-Mairon...?” Melkor asked again, apprehension obvious in his voice. Mairon – Tar-Mairon – didn't say a word, he didn't even move, observing the Vala instead, with a look that would set a tree on fire.  
“I've missed you baby...” Melkor smiled confusingly. “I wanted to come back sooner but....”  
“SHUT UP!”  
At the unexpected bursting, the Vala tensed up, chewing his bottom lip nervously. “Mairon, trust me I understand why you're so pissed, but maybe we could talk together, calmly, and try to fix the problem... alright?”  
“You left me all alone. You abandonned me on the ruins of Beleriand.”  
“Techinically, I didn't. It's my brother who forced me to--”  
“SHUT UP!” Leaving his throne, the Maia walked ragefully towards Melkor, a finger pointed at him.  
“Nice manicure, darling.” Melkor whispered with a charming smile as his lieutenant walked closer.  
“The first time it happened, I forgave you. I took care of Angband in your absence and ordered everything, cleaning your mess and waiting patiently for your return.” There were hate, scorn and rage in Tar-Mairon's voice, and the fury in his eyes had never been so intense. “I did everything, EVERYTHING for you. And this is how you thank me?! By disappearing again for two fucking ages?! By forsaking me on this lands filled with Eldar and mortals?! You know what Melkor? FUCK YOU! Go back to the void, I don't need you here! I don't want you here!”

Dropping his gaze like a guilty child, Melkor listened carefully, nodding from time to time. “But Mairon...” He finally managed to say as the Maia caught his breath. “I didn’t--”  
“GET. OUT!” Spatting the words, Tar-Mairon turned on his heels and left the room, slamming the door so violently that the walls shook a bit. Eyes filled with dispair and nervosity, Melkor stood alone in the center of the room, paying no attention to the rats that were nuzzling his elbows. “Mairon...?” He called again, someow hoping that the Maia was still behind the door. “Darling... It wasn't my fault!”


	7. Scandals in Valinor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ainur have to deal with a lot of things, and they aren't very useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing.

“My lord, I'm not totally sure it was a good idea...”  
“Of course it was a good idea, Eonwë! Look how happy he seems to be!” Manwe replied to his herald, a wide smile on his lips and his eyes on the Noldo in front of him. “... Is he looking for something?”  
“His brother, I suppose.” Ëonwe shrugged, concern and confusion clear in his bright eyes.  
”HALF-BROTHER!” Fëanor's voice resounded as he paced furiosuly in Lorien's garden. “And I'm not looking for this usurper, I'm looking for my father.”  
“You're half-brother is still dwelling in the Halls, just like dear Finwë.” The Maia replied calmly - as calmly as possible – beside Manwë who was still smiling contentedly. “He decided to give his place to your mother, so she could live and enjoy the beauties of Aman in his place.”

Fëanor froze, Eonwë's words aiming directly at his heart. “Ammë...? She's here?”  
“You're not allowed to see her... yet.” Ëonwë replied sternly, ignoring the elder king who seemed particularly upset by the statement. “It's too soon.”  
“Oh Ëonwë... Why is that? Why can't sweet Fëanor meet his mother again?”  
“My lord we already talked about it... Remember Namo's words, please.” The Herald whispered, trying to avoid Fëanor's troubled gaze.  
“But-- “  
“No my Lord. I know it would be a very cute and sweet scene for everybody to watch, but it cannot be.”

Pouting, Manwë didn't reply and folded his arms over his chest to show his discontentment, whereas Ëonwë walked to the Noldo whose eyes were now filled with tears and his voice only a sad murmur in the wind. “Ammë...”  
“You'll see her later, Fëanaro, if you prove yourself worthy of it.”  
“Ammë...”  
“I know you miss her, we all know that. But you have to be patient.”  
“Ammë...”  
“It is the best thing to do.”  
“Ammë...”  
“You'll see her eventually.”  
“Ammë...”  
“Fëanaro, please.”  
“Ammë....”  
“Fëanaro...?”  
A heavy silence fell in the garden, tears sliding along the Noldo's cheeks as the Maia rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, at least until Manwë's sobbing voice broke this awkward moment.  
“Oh Ëonwë, let him see his mom, for Father's sake!”

\----

From pokerfacenamo@myplace.mandoshalls to thebrightvarda@taniquetil.aman

Dear Varda,  
I wish I could find enough patience and respect in my soul to tell you politely how disappointed I am by your husband, our king, but unfortunately I can't.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HIM?  
I tried, many times, to explain him that Fëanaro's place was in the Halls and he knows BETTER THAN ANYONE that this Noldo must NOT leave my Halls until Dagor Dagorath. WHY IS IT SO COMPLICATED TO UNDERSTAND?

That was the first rant.

Now let me introduce to you the second one.

HE TRIED TO BRING FEANARO TO MIRIEL. And he managed to convince Ëonwë to help him!  
MANWË IS OUR KING AND OUR DIRECT CONNECTION TO ERU. HOW IN ARDA COULD HE DISOBEY TO HIS COMMANDS?  
I had to take Miriel back to the Halls to be sure Fëanaro wouldn't see her and I had to do it myself!  
Please Varda, DO SOMETHING!  
Lock your husband in a cage, chain him to his throne, whatever you want, but do not let him walk freely around Aman or we'll have to deal with another catastrophe.

Your dear friend,  
Namo.

PS: Maybe it's just my imagination, but I sensed something weird concerning the void the other night. Could you please tell Ilmare to check if everything is alright with the Door of Night?

\----

“It wasn't my fault.”  
Manwë was standing clumsily in front of his wife, white feathers tangled with his white hair and Ëonwë beside him. The Maia kept his eyes on the ground, guilt devouring his soul as Varda's angry words fell upon them like knives. But Manwë didn't seem as worried and guilty as he should, though he was obviously scared by his wife’s violent reaction.

“Varda, darling, my beautiful, gorgeous Varda, please listen.” The Vala began with a pleading, gentle voice. “Sweet Fëanaro was very sad and he really needed to see his mother and I-- “

“Fëanaro is not sweet, Manwë!” Varda cut, silver hair sparkling around her delicate face. “And now he's gone and nobody knows where he went! I don't even understand why you freed him from the Halls, he was supposed to stay there!”  
“Yes, I know but it wouldn't have been fair since I...” The Vala trailed off, already knowing that he had spoken too much.  
“Since you what, Manwë ?”  
“Since you what, my lord?” Ëonwë added with a shy voice.

Before the elder king could answer, Ilmarë bursted into the throne room, breathless, panic shining in her eyes. “We have a huuuuuuuuuge problem.”  
And as everyone turned to look at her, Manwë let out a nervous high laugh, way too high to be natural. “It wasn't my fault.”

\----

The Valar were gathered in concil, presided by Varda for a change, as Manwë tried to avoid the company of the other Valar and their disappointed gaze upon him.  
“To sum-up the situation...” Varda began. “...Melkor is somewhere in Middle-Earth, probably looking for Sauron and eating hobbits, and Fëanaro has disappeared from Aman, all that thanks to my genious husband who is now dwelling with his birds.”  
“And Miriel is back in the Halls.” Added Namo sternly, anger crackling in his low voice.  
“That is not our main problem, Namo.” Yavanna replied impatiently.  
“Maybe but it is a problem since it's ruining the re-embodiment schedule.”  
“There's a schedule for the re-embodiments?” Ëonwë asked, trying vainly to change the topic of the conversation.  
“Of course there's a schedule. What did you think? That we just free them randomly?”  
“Please Namo.” Varda intervened. “This is not the point, we have much more important things to talk about.”  
“The schedule is important.”  
“Yes, Namo, but it can wait. Melkor is out, somewhere in Middle-Earth, and we have to do something.”  
“Why?” Irmo asked, genuinely curious. “Last time we didn't do anything before this half-mortal asked for our help, and it wasn't such a matter.”

After an awkward silence, Ëonwë dared to speak. “For me, it was quite a problem... I mean, when I guided the army to Angband, it wasn't as easy as it looked from here. Especially when the two sons of Fëanaro stole the Silmarils... Believe me, Middle-Earth is a real mess.”  
“The little bird is right!” Tulkas exclamed, patting Ëonwë's back a bit too violently. “I can't deny that I would very much like to kick Melkor's balls again, but I don't understand why we should worry so much. He surely has no plan to attack us and if he does, I'd be waiting for him!”

Most of the audience approved the Wrestler's words, even Ëonwe who was now stroking his probably broken shoulder blade.

“But what if he kills more elves?” Estë asked, compassion in her voice, and Nienna, who was standing beside her, bursted into tears.  
“If he kills more elves, they'll come back to the Halls and then in Valinor... Eventually.” Vaire explained calmly, almost happily. “And I'll have a ton of new things to add to my tapestries!”  
“And what about the mortals?” Nienna asked, words flowing painfully between each loud sob. Yet, at her question nobody answered, and another awkward silence fell on the Ainur, only broken by Oromë's loud coughs.  
“The mortals...” Varda mused, trying to look confident enough to make everybody trust her words. “… They'd have the chance to leave Arda and to... And to discover the plans Eru has for them!”

Cheerful approbations followed the Valie's statement, except for Nienna who was only crying louder than ever.

“What is our plan then?” Aulë asked abrutptly. “Are we doing something? Will I have the chance to talk to my Maia again?”  
“I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more patient for that, my dear.” Yavanna replied gently. “As long as Sauron doesn't try to send another army to Aman, we have no reason to deal with him.”  
“Indeed.” Said Oromë. “The only thing we actually have to do is to find Fëanaro and to bring him back to the Halls, isn't it?”

Namo and Varda nodded silently, Tulkas winked at Ëonwë who did all that he could to stop smiling stupidly at the Vala -despite his injured shoulder- Nienna blowed her nose in Irmo's robe and the other Ainur weren't even listening anymore, already preapring to leave this long and boring concil. 

“Hm... My queen?” Ëonwë began shyly, finding his way through the crowd to talk privatly to Varda. “Can I stay with Lord Tulkas during the search for Fëanaro?”  
“No Ëonwë, your place is beside Manwë and you'll stay with him for the next weeks.”  
“Weeks?!”  
“You'll keep an eye on him AND I want to believe that you will not let him convince you to do anything stupid again. Do I have your word?” Varda raised a brow in a way that was almost threatening.  
“But, my queen, I-- “  
“Do I have your word?”  
Eonwë winced and frowned and sighed heavily. “Yes, my queen... You do have my word.”  
Clapping her hands joyfully, Varda smiled. “Very well then! He must be in the dovecote, don't let him get out of it.”  
“I beg your pardon?”  
“You heared me well Eönwe. My husband is grounded.”

\----

Somewhere on the shores of Aman – quite far from Alqualondë- Fëanor was gazing upon the East, hesitating between his revenge against Melkor and finding his sons who were still locked in these filthy halls.

One finger stroking his chin, the Noldo bit his bottom lip as he thought of the best thing to do. The Valar were probably after him and the wisest thing to do would be to stay in Aman, get his sons, father and mother out of the Halls and then attack Melkor for the sake of his own mind. 

Yet, as he heard Nahar's neigh behind him, Fëanaro panicked, rushed into the water and started to swim as fast as possible, determined to live and to be free. Whatever happened, he would NEVER go back the Halls.


	8. Flames and passion in Mordor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melkor and Mairon can finally talk a bit.  
> And Fëanor tries to walk into Mordor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh, I needed more crack, especially more fluffy angbang crack because my serious hc about the dark lords are way too painful.

The sky was dark above the land of Mordor, not a single light was piercing through the heavy clouds that lingered there, protecting Barad-Dur from the sight of Varda's stars.

The fallen dark lord, recently escaped from the depth of the Void, was visiting the dark tower built by his lieutenant, burned hands hidden in his pockets as he paced through the large corridors.  
Mairon had disappeared and was probably torturing one or two prisoners in order to calm his fragil nerves and to relieve the tension. At least, that's what Melkor thought.  
But he was wrong.  
The Maia was actually watching his ancient master, his flaming eye following him though his fortress. Locked in his chamber and laying back on his bed, Mairon was using his dark power to stalk the Vala silently, and what he could see was much more boring than expected. In fact, Mairon didn't really know what he had expected, but it was surely not a poor, wandering Vala behaving like a tourist in a foreign land. 

At one point, Mairon wondered if he should have created a souvenir shop near the Black Gate, but this thought was soon replaced by Melkor's voice.  
“MAIROOOOOOOOOOOON.”  
The Maia ignored it.  
“Mairon pleaaaaase. I know you're watching me... Don't leave me alone.”  
The Maia didn't reply and chuckled disdainlfully at the Vala's whinings.  
“I'll do anything, Mairon.”

After 15 minutes of cries, Mairon finally decided to grant his master a short meeting, and sent two uruks to the Vala. A short while later, Melkor was stepping into Mairon's chamber, a satisfied smile on his lips, and couldn't help ordering the uruks to leave them alone.

“They are my servants.” Mairon protested as he sat on his bed. “Not yours. And they'll only obey to me.”

One of the uruks let out a noise which sound like a sick dog's barking, but which was, in fact, a laughter. Unwilling to let himself be insulted so boldly, Melkor slapped the back of the uruk's head, a movement which instantly decapitated the creature.  
“He was one of my best personal guards.” Mairon commented with a wince.  
“The race of the ocs seems to have weakened with the years... I remember some captains in Angband who could easily endured my slaps and kicks.”  
“This is not Angband, and in case you haven't noticed, dear Master, we are in the third age now.” Mairon replied, sarcasm flowing from his lips like waves of poison. “I have to do with what remained of our ancient glory.”  
“You mean my glory.”

At this comment, Mairon laughed loudly, his head jerking backwards and his red locks falling over his shoulders, a sight which awoke something warm and pleasant in the Vala's guts. “As I recall, my lord, I was the main contributor to your glory, I was the one who worked days and nights to build and improve and reinforce your lands and army, I was--”  
“Enough.”  
At his master loud, stern voice, Mairon froze, pleasantly surprised by the command. Although he would have never admitted it, he had deeply missed his master's orders, his authority and cold voice which could freeze a man with one single word. And how glad he was to see that his master hadn't totally lost it during these years of captivity and loneliness.

With a movement of his hand, the Maia commanded the uruk to leave and to take the smelly corpse of his companion with him. 

After he had left, the Vala and the Maia stared at each other for a long while, silently observing the other's features as their very beings crave the other's touch.  
“You look awful.” Mairon finally said, breaking the silence. “And your hair is worse than ever.”  
“They didn't allow me to take a brush with me in the void.”  
“Jerks.”  
“My thought exactly.”  
“Would you...” The Maia began, apparently embarassed by his own request. “Would you allow me to brush your hair? I have everything here to make it beautiful.”  
The Vala smiled, tickles of contentment bubbling in his stomach. “Some things never change.”

The Maia chuckled and left his bed to grab two impressive brushes and a smelly lotion. Patting the bed, he invited his master to sit on it, with something like a smile on his lips. Melkor didn't hesited and walked clamly to the bed, sat on it, and waited for his Maia to positionned himself behind him. Carefully, Mairon ran his warm fingers through Melkor's dark strands and the Vala shirevered violently at the gentle touch. Moments of intimacy had always been rare and precious, but this exact moment, the first one in ages, was not only pleasant, but also oddly stirring, and melkor found himself being moved but the situation.

“I missed you Mairon.”  
“Hm.”  
“I really did.”  
“Shut up and stop moving, I'm trying to get rid of this knot.” Mairon replied sternly, pulling violently on the Vala's hair.  
“OUCH!” Melkor turned suddenly, only to see a large amount of his own hairs in Mairon's hands.  
“Oops.” Mairon shrugged, obviously not sorry.  
“You tore my hair out!”  
“In my defense, that knot was huge.”  
“You have no excuse.” With a quick move, Melkor pushed Mairon backwards, hard enough to make the Maia fall on the bed. “How dare you treat me like this?”

Much to his surprise, Mairon strated to feel something in his very being, something which reminded him of an old sensation he hadn't felt for too long: fear. And he smiled to himself at this thought, at the though of himself being impressed and scared again by the Vala who had been his everything, who had ruled over his life and who had so suddenly left him long ago.  
How he liked this, and how he missed it, this exciting anticipation for... for what?

With a growl, Melkor grabbed the dark hairs which were still in Mairon's hand and stared at it with his most disappointed look. A pouting child staring at a broken toy.  
Rolling his eyes, the Maia let out a deep sigh. “It will grow back. It always does.”  
Melkor's hand found its way to the back of his own head and he started to rub it slowly. “It must look weird now.”  
“It's not worse than before.”  
“Do shut up Mairon.”

The Maia opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped himself before any other sarcasm left his lip. Instead, he moved closer to the Vala and he have him his most adorable look. ”You mad?”  
“Yes. I am mad. I come back to you after all these years and you find nothing else to do than insulting me, humiliating me, tearing my hair out and making me look like a fool. I have all the reasons to be mad!”  
“… But you're back.”

Melkor forwned, confused. “What game are you playing Mairon?”  
“A game ? Oh no, My lord, this is no game.”  
“No?” Melkor chuckled bitterly and looked away, trying vainly to hide his confusion. “I can't believe that you--”  
Before he could finish his sentence, the Vala felt somtehing warm against his arm, and then the soften silk of mairon's hair under his chin. The Maia had silently slipped closer, and he was now resting his head on his master's shoulder, his eyes half shut and a silent purr rolling from the back of his throat.

A few minutes later, loud knocks resounded in the room, tearing the Maia off his semi-couscious nap against his Master. Clearing his throat, he left the bed and stood proudly in the center of the room as a small uruk stepped in.  
“My Lord. There's somebody at the Back Gate who is asking for someone called... hm...How did he say that again? Morrigan? No... was it Marowak? Or Mortimer?”  
“Moringotto?” Mairon suggested, raising a brow.  
“YES! Tha's the one!”

Melkor, still sat on the bed, gasped. “Who? Who is it? Who wants to see me? Who would dare to come here to see me?”  
Impressed by the Vala sudden reaction and the loud voice that echoed in the room, the uruk stepped back. “I d-d-don't knnnow.... An elf. T-t-tall. B-b-black hair. P-p-pretty face. He seemed pissed.”  
“Oh. My. Fucking. Father.”  


\---

Later, on the Black Gate, two orcs were having a casual talk about a certain Noldo who wasn't allowed to walk into Mordor.

“This elf doesn't look alright.”  
“Did he hit his head or something?”  
“Dunno, but he had yelled at the gate for days... he definitely needs help.”  
“Would you really like to help an elf?”  
“hmpf... Not really.”  
“What is he...? Is he insulting a tree now?”  
“It's not a tree, it's a bush.”  
“Is the elf insulting a bush?”  
“I suppose the bush insulted his family? I’ve heard that elves could speak to plants.”  
“What did the master said about him?”  
“Lord Sauron said we should ignore him, he said the elf will probably get tired before us.”  
“It's been three days already. And his screams gave me a fucking headache, I feel like a troll stepped on my skull.”  
“A troll did step on you skull last year.”  
“Oh yes, that's true. But the elf is making everything worse... Wait, is he setting the tree on fire.?”  
“It's a bush.”  
“Shouldn't we do something?”  
“Why? I thought the master liked fire.”  
“Yeah but... It could become dangerous.”  
“Naah. I'm sure it will be alright. It's not like ONE elf could be a threat to the army of Mordor.”  
“Haha! Yeah, it would be absurd... What the...?”  
“Is he throwing the flaming tree at us?”  
“It’s a bu-- OH MY FUCK LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!”

And Fëanor threw a flaming bush at the orcs, killing in its way half of the guards of the Black Gate and setting a baby troll on fire.


	9. Tiny balls of rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this point, Melkor doesn't give a shit anymore.

“THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!”

The Maia was pacing angrily through the large halls of Barad Dur, Melkor behind him, disapointment and confusion betrayed by the wince on his face. “How could you let this happen, Mairon? I though your gates were guarded.” Rubbing his leg, the Vala remembered painfully the day he had crossed that damn Black Gate and wondered how an elf, even this elf, could have crossed it without any further damages.  
“They were. This asshole set my guards on fire.”  
“Rude.”

Mairon stopped, let out an angry sigh and turned to glare at his old master. “How is that even possible? Didn't Gothmog killed him millennia ago? Didn't he crush his miserable body and send his fëa straight to Mandos?"  
“He did.”  
“So why is this asshole on my land?”  
“Must be looking for me.” Melkor shrugged, annoyed but not worried by the incident. The Noldo had been killed once, there was no reason they couln't do it again.  
“In that case, you should leave.” Mairon stated sternly, his arms folded over his chest and his fingers patting impatiently on his forearm.  
”I beg your pardon.”  
“The Noldo came for you and I have no time to waste with this ball of anger and fury. So maybe you should go.“  
“A ball of anger and fury...” Melkor mused, one burnt finger stroking his chin. “It strangely reminds me of someone else.”

“GET OFF MY LAND!”  
“Come on babe, I'm not leaving now. Give me two days and I'll bring you Fëanaro's body as a proof of my good faith.”  
“You're incapable to get rid of him, Melkor.”  
“I don't see what you mean, I am totaly capable--”  
“You have twenty-four hours.”  
“It’s a deal.”  
The Maia left, turning back to his work, whatever it was. In fact, Melkor was still unable to understand what his ex-lieutenant was actually doing all day, but he hadn't dared to ask yet. Mairon wasn't in the mood for questions. He never was.

Thus, Melkor found himself alone in the hall, with a mission and an angry Maia watching him from the top of this massive tower. Fëanor shoudn't be so far now, probably somewhere around Barad-Dur, lurking and waiting for the right moment to strike. Pathetic and childish.

As he left the tower, a rather impressive warhammer in his hand - not as mighty as Grond and far less impressive than Grond Jr. - Melkor wondered how Fëanor managed to get out of Mandos. He knew the place and the commander in chief too well to imagine that Fëanor simply walked out there freely. Namo wasn't the kind of Ainu who would allow himself to be convinced by a few whimpers and lamentations, and the Noldo wasn't the begging type. Melkor knew that too.

_How did he even managed to leave Valinor and to come to Middle-Earth? Did Manwë send him? Did Thorondor carry him across the sea ? Did he attack another Telerin port? Alone? He could obviously do it, but would he survive?_

None of this made any sense, and the Vala was lost in his troubled thoughts, walking through the desertic land when he heard an impressive cry. It was a cry of rage, and Melkor instantly understood where it was coming from.

He turned over, only to see a flash of black hair and two hands reaching for him, before he fell backwards, his head hurting the ground and his fingers letting go of the hammer.

He had been tackled. He, the mighty Vala, the One Who Arise in might had been tackled down by an angry Noldo. That was unacceptable.  
With a groan, Melkor reached out and grabbed the elf by the hair to drag him away. And as he stood up slowly, as Fëanor struggled and screamed and dribbled with rage in his grip -the Noldo was smaller than the Ainu, and it wasn't that difficult for Melkor to hold him at arm's length – the Vala sighed, shook his head and watched him silently for a while. 

_First Mairon, and now Fëanor. Why do I always have to deal with the angriest ones? What on Arda did I do to deserve tha-- ah yes, right. Fair enough. But still, I didn't come here to become the punchingbag of these two rageful squirrels._

“I'MGONNASLAYYOUMORINGOTTO! I'M GONNA CUT YOU OPEN AN PEE ON YOUR GUTS! I'M GONNA BEHEAD YOU AND LET MY SONS PLAY FOOTBALL WITH YOUR HEAD! I'M GONNA SIT ON YOUR UGLY FACE UNTIL YOU CHOCK ON MY ASS!”

_He's so rude. At least Mairon has enough manners not to swear so much. Oh, look at this massive blue vein on his forehead...Is he going to explode? What if I touch it?_

And as Fëanor was yelling curses and threats, the Vala reached out, his free hand finding its way to Fëanor's face, and poked the massive blue vein on his forehead. Much to his surprise, the Noldo instantly stopped yelling and froze, grey eyes staring at Melkor in shock.

_Is it a trick to turn him off? A botton, like the one on the window I found in the void?_

Curious, Melkor poked Fëanor's forehead again, wondering if that second touch would turn him on again, and if the Noldo would restart.  
But it didn't work. The Noldo was still frozen, looking Melkor dead in the eye, his whole body tensed.  
“You're broken?” The Vala asked, genenuily curious.  
Fëanor didn't reply, still shocked, and Melkor found nothing else to do than to shake him vehemently “Hey, Fëanaro, I'm talking to you! If you're broken you can tell me, you know.”

“SHUT UP MORIGOTTO! I HAVE NOTHING TO TELL YOU YOU BIG PIECE OF SHIT I HATE YOU!”

_And there he goes again. Will he ever stop? It's becoming really annoying._

“YOU'RE GROSS AND UGLY AND YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS AHAHA YOU'RE JUST AN UGLY LONELY INCOMPETENT VALA GIVE ME MY SILMARILS OR I EAT YOUR NOSE.”

Melkor frowned. “Your Silmarils? But I don't have them anymore.”  
“LIAR!”  
“No, no I'm being honest.I though you knew. I don't have your jewels. They took them.”

Fëanor froze again, tears rushing to his eyes and threatening to roll down his cheeks. “You... don't have them?” His voice was sad, slow, suddenly shaking, words coming out painfully. “Where are they?”  
“This dude, the mariner, whatever his name is, flew away with one of them.” Melkor pointed at the sky, where Earendil's light was shining, still visible despite the heavy clouds above the dark land. “See? That's the one which was on the left side of my crown.”

Agape, Fëanor looked up at the sky and this time a tear left his right eye.  
“This dickhead killed my dragon.”  
Feanor didn't reply, the information slowly settling into his mind.  
“The two other jewels were taken by Ëonwë, you now the one who looks like a bird and who's always following my brother? Or Tulkas, depends on his mood.”

The Noldo looked at the Vala again, pain and confusion shining in his eyes. “They're in Valinor?”  
“You wish, hm?” Melkor chuckled. “But they aren't. Your kids took them from the bird.”  
“My kids?”  
“The older ones. The others were... you know, kaput.”

A light of hope appeared on Fëanor's face. “So they did it? They fullfiled they Oath? They got my silmarils back? And they died for it?”  
“Not really. I mean yes, they died. But they got rid of your jewels.”

The light vanished as quickly as it had appeared. ”They what?”  
“The ginger one decided to take a bath in a volcano with it. I suppose he was cold or something.” Melkor explained with a shrug, with the most casual voice. “And the singer gave an actual bath to the jewel, in the ocean. But far away from the shores. I'm surprised it didn't hit Ulmo's head when your kid threw it away.”

The Vala laughed at his own words, imagining Ulmo being hitten by the burning gem. It took him a few seconds to notice the desperate look on Fëanor's face. It was a mix between rage, disapointment, sadness and misery, and Melkor found it particularly amusing.

“You looked better when you wanted to kill me Fëanaro.”  
The Noldo tried to speak but instead of words, a long groan left his lips. Or was it a whine? Melkor wasn't sure.  
“I had pretty much the same reaction when that little brat stole one of them from my crown.”  
“Ggnnggggrrrrrrggggnnn...”  
“I know it hurts. But you know, kids these days...”

Fëanor groaned for half an hour, and Melkor found the sight too pleasant to make it stop, and decided to keep the elf alive. He had twenty-four hours after all.

When the Noldo finally stopped, exhausted, desperate and burning with a mad fever, the Vala wrapped a heavy arm around his trembling shoulders and laughed loudly, a grin on his face. “I'm so glad you're here Fëanaro. It has been so long and I have a ton of plans for you.”

The Noldo frowned, dry tears staining his face and his lips still shaking confusingly. “Wh-What do you mean?”  
“Remember the message I sent you?”  
“What message?”  
“You know the one with the few pictures I found...”  
“I don't--OH ERU NO! Tell me you're not thinking of _these_ pictures.”  
“What was it again? You know, the name they use for it...?”  
“Moringotto, stay away from me.”  
“Aah... I've never been good with names... Come on, I'm sure you know it.”  
“Nope.”  
“That's it! Fëanope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work isn't finish yet, but I really want to thank you all for your support. I'm having so much fun writing it, and I'm so glad to know that you enjoy reading it. Thank you so much!


	10. An explosive meeting

When Melkor stepped into the throne room, carrying Fëanor over his shoulder, a proud smile on his lips, the lord of Barad-Dur was peacefully drinking a glass of wine. Yet, the muffled cries escaping from the Noldo's lips surprised him so much that Mairon jumped and spread the wine on the delicate embroidery of his robe, and with a loud curse he welcomed the Vala and his prisoner.

“Nice to see you too,Mairon.” Melkor stated with a laugh as he stepped towards the throne. “Look! I found something!” 

Over his shoulder, the elf was struggling, his body wrapped with heavy chains. “He doesn't look really happy to be here.” The Maia muttered, rubbing a piece of cloth against the red stains which covered his robe.  
“I know...” Replied Melkor, dropping his elven-package on the ground. “Not only I had to chain and gag him, but I also sprayed him with this non-flammable mixture I found in your office. Just in case.”  
“Good. I don’t want him to explode in my tower.”

On the ground, Fëanor was wriggling like a fish out of water, vainly trying to stand up, and after many attempts he finally managed to get on his knees.

“Ungag him.” Mairon ordered the two drunk orcs who were standing beside his throne. Without a word they obeyed; one of them got bitten by the Noldo as he took the gag off his mouth, and Fëanor spat on the other one's face, which instantly made the drunk orc cry.

Melkor frowned, Mairon rolled his eyes and Fëanor screamed.  
'  
“LET ME GET OUT OF HERE YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT I WILL SLAY YOU AND YOUR ORCS AND--”  
“Gag him.” Mairon commanded with a sigh under Melkor amused gaze. “He's even worse that his son and grandson.” 

The orcs clumsily tried to put the gag back between the Noldo’s lips, yet as he noticed how difficult it was to complete such a simple task, Mairon decided to do it himself. Swiflty he left his throne, walked to the Noldo, kicked him, slapped him and with a few expert moves, he finally gagged him. The glare he gave the orcs after that would have slayed any other creature, and with many awkward bows and confused groans, the orcs left the room in order to whip themselves in the dungeons.

"What was I saying again?” The Maia wondered, his fingers stroking his chin. “Ah yes, what does he want?”  
“To kill us obviously.” Melkor nodded, smirking. “At least that was until I told him about the Silmarils. Now he mostly wants to find his remaining kid and to kill him himself.”  
“The whining singer?”

Melkor nodded again, his smirk turning into a real smile.  
“Sounds like a good plan.” Mairon shrugged, resting his hand on the Noldo's shoulder, which instantly provoked more struggles and muffled, disgusted cries. “But there are two things I want to know before that.” 

Raising his brow, Melkor watched his ex-lieutenant kneel before the crawling elf.. “Listen Fëanaro, I want to ask you something, and if you reply , if you do not yell as you are so used to, I might let you go kill your son. Does that sound fair?”  
After a few seconds of sheer hesitation, Fëanor nodded eagerly, and with what was supposed to look like a gentle smile, Mairon freed him from the gag.  
Awkwardly, Fëanor cleared his throat, and proudly waited for the Maia's questions.

“Okay, so firstly, how did you reach the shores of Middle earth? Did Manwë or Eonwë help you ?”  
“I had the same question in mind.” Melkor stated, joining Mairon's side. “And I wanted to --”  
“Shut up,Melk. Let him talk.”  
Raising his chin and giving the Ainur his most disdainful look, Fëanor replied with a slow, calm voice. “I swam.”

The two Ainur looked at each others, their brows raising in surprise. “You... swam? From Aman?”  
“Yes.”  
“But that's technically impossible.” Mairon frowned, shaking his head.  
“What do you mean it's impossible? It's not impossible since I did it; it took me five weeks, it wasn't easy, but I did it.”  
“No, no you don't understand.” The Maia said, trying to ignore the painful headache which was increasing with each new word. “It doesn't match the canon facts.”

This time, Melkor shared a confused look with the Noldo. “The what?”  
“Canon.” Mairon repeated. “It is said that after the Downfall of Numenor, which was, by the way, my most brilliant intervention--”  
“Except that you nearly died.” Melkor cut.  
“Shut up Melkor, you weren't even there.”  
“Yeah, but you still almost died.”  
“Let me explain!” The Maia spat impatiently, ignoring the confused look in Fëanor's eyes. “Canon says that after the Downfall of Numenor, Eru changed the shape of Arda and only some Eldar can depart from Aman to come to Endor.”  
“Canon?” Fëanor repeated. “What is that?”  
“The things written by J.R.R Tolkien.”  
“Who?”  
“You know the professor who... created us all.” Mairon tried to explain, though his impatience was obvious now.  
“Ah, you mean Eru!” Fëanor exclaimed.  
“No, not Eru.”  
“Tom Bombadil?” The Vala asked, even more confused than the Noldo.  
“No. Not Bombadil.” Mairon sighed. “How do you even know about Bombadil?”  
“Morgoth?”  
“What?”  
“No, It's not Melkor either!” The Maia snapped angrily. “You know what ? Forget it. Let's say canon isn't a thing, ok?”  
“'kay.” The Vala and the Noldo nodded.

Rubbing his forehead, Mairon stepped away and tried to focus on the second matter he wanted to speak of, but his ears were buzzing now, and the pain in his head wasn't helping. “So, the second thing is.. MELKORWHATTHEFUCKDIDYOUTHINKYOUWEREDOING?!”

Staring at the Maia, Melkor didn't reply, though the tension was now obviously increasing in the room.  
“Did you really think I wouldn't see you? My eye is upon that tower Melkor, and it was fixed on you all the damn time!”  
“Aaah... yes... of course.” Melkor swallowed painfully, for he knew now what the Maia was talking about.

Still on the ground, Fëanor understood as well, and he dropped his gaze, his cheeks turning as red as his son's when he was pissed. “I my defense, it wasn't my idea.”  
“Shut up, Fëanaro.”  
“Don't tell me to shut up, Moringotto!”  
“You're making it worse!”  
“It's all your fault!”  
“ENOUGH!” Mairon shouted out and stepped towards Melkor, his fists clenching around the Vala's collar. “I gave you one chance Melkor and you fucked it up.”  
“I brought you the Noldo.”  
“You did. But as I recall, I didn't ask you to fuck the Noldo.”  
“You didn't say I couldn't.”  
“Could we talk about something else?” Feanor groaned, struggling in his chains. “Also, I have a kid to ground, so if you could let me go that would be very nice.”  
“Shut up Fëanaro.” The two Ainur stated in perfect harmony.

And during two long hours, the Noldo had to attend the display of the dark lords - and dark lovers' argument. At one point he fell asleep, only to be awakened by a hand pulling on his hair. Mairon's hand who was dragging him through the large corridors. 

“You stay away from him, filthy Noldo.”  
“I never meant to steal your boyfriend. It was just a desperate, angry fuck.” Fëanor spat ragefully as he tried to free his dark locks from the Maia's strong grip. “But I don't regret a damn thing... especially now that I know what you did to my grandson.”  
“He's not my boyfriend. And you grandson was a cunt.”

Hearing the sharp words, Fëanor managed to violently bite the Maia's wrist. Under the sudden assault, he cursed the elf, cursed Melkor, cursed the whole world and didn't realize Fëanor was already preparing his new attack. Crawling on the ground, the elf kicked the Maia, his foot hitting the sensitive parts between Mairon's legs, and with a loud cry Mairon fell down. 

Fëanor should have chosen this moment to run away, or at least to crawl away, but instead he kept on kicking the dark lord who was so clumsily trying to cover his groin with his hands.

The loud cries reached Melkor's ears, and it didn't take long before the Vala stepped between the two furious creatures. Scooping Feanor, he threw it over his shoulder again, and took Mairon under his free arm. For a minute he wondered what to do with them, at one point an obscene thought crossed his mind, but shaking his head Melkor shrugged it off. They were too dangerous together, and Melkor didn't want to take any more risk. 

Carrying the two creatures, he walked back to the throne room, trying so hard not to pay attention to their screams and the insults they sent to each others, and to him. 

“Manwe was right, I shouldn't have left the void.”


	11. Take me to the beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I couldn’t help making it a bit sad at one point)(oops)

Leaving Mordor hadn’t been as easy as walking into it. Between a careless Vala and an arrogant, touchy Maia, Fëanor had to struggle, and a few days later, he stilld didn’t know he managed to get out of it unharmed. Well, not totally unharmed but at least walking wasn’t too painful.

Now, Fëanor was determined to find his last living son, and mumbling ragefully, he headed to the west, hoping it wouldn’t take too long before he could find Maglor.  
He had many things to tell him, and a fury to unleash. How could Macalaurë had casted his precious jewel into the sea? Was he drunk? Stupid ? Both? It didn’t make any sense to Fëanor, and he definitely needed a few explanations.

After many days, Fëanor finally found a beach, in a place he couldn’t name, somewhere in the south of Gondor. A lonely, empty beach, were a few seagulls were dabbling happily. A reasonable person would have left and searched for another place where the wandering son could be. But Fëanor wasn’t a reasonable person, and a strange feeling forced him to explore this blasted place.

Taking off his boots to feel the warm sand beneath his feet, Fëanor strode along the shores, until a nasty little crab pinched his toe. Letting out a loud curse, the Noldo shook his foot to get rid of the animal, but the creature refused to let go. The fight lasted ten long minutes, and finally Fëanor managed to take a big rock and he cruched down his small enemy.

Limping, grey eyes searching for anything that wasn’t a seagull or a crab (though he walked carefully now), the Elda started to call his second son’s names, all of his names, in every languages he knew. Just in case.  
It seemed vain, for two hours later, there was still no sign of Maglor.

When the sun started to sink into the ocean, the stubborn Noldo sat down with a sigh. The bruise on his toe seemed to have increased since the reckless attack of the crab, and as a revenge, Fëanor crushed another crustacean that was peacefully heading to the sea. During a short second, he regretted that he had never learned how to cook them, but the thought was soon replaced by a rageful nervosity. His beautiful Silmaril was somewhere in the sea, and he could do nothing to have it back. Moringotto was right, maybe it hit Ulmo’s head as it sank… What if the lonely Vala had kept it?  
Maybe the enemy was in fact, Ulmo.  
Maybe Ulmo had planned it all from the start.  
Maybe Ulmo and Morgoth were secretly good friends…

Infuriated by his own suspicions, Fëanor let out a long growl and began to write names and insults in the sand with one finger. He couldn’t say why, but it seemed to sooth his troubled mind. ‘Fuck you melkor’ was written an awful lot, along with 'Mandos is a slut’ and 'Nolofinwë = worse king of the Noldor’  
And as he skilffuly wrote 'KANO WTF’, Fëanor sensed a presence behind him. A familiar one. Yet, he didn’t turn, his grey eyes raising to meet the red horizon before him.

”Atar…?” The voice called in whisper, and along shiver ran down Fëanor’s spine. For too long he hadn’t heard this word. “…Atar, is it you?”

He tried to stand up, to face his son and to talk, as he had planned, but something he couldn’t name prevented him from doing so, and he soon realized his hands were shaking. What was happening to him? Where was his wrath gone? Why could he not do what he had planned to do?

A long silence fell onto them, but a few long seconds later, Fëanor heard his son move, the light footsteps in the sand getting slowly closer, until Maglor joined his father’s side. Without a look for him, the Fëanorion sat down on the crustacean crushed shell, and they both stared at the horizon for a while.

Maglor’s eyes fell on the signs drawn by Fëanor in the sand and both of his brows arched as he read them. “Glad that you remember my name.”  
A deep frown on his face, Fëanor turned, and replied with a voice that was harsher than expected. “Of course I remember your name, Macalaurë. What did you think?!”

Maglor gave a shrug and looked down at his burned hands, allowing his father to see them too, and at the sight oif them, Fëanor let out a gasp. “What the…? Who did this to you?”  
“You did.”  
That was not only confusing, but aslo greatly offending. How could his son, his dear son, accuse him of such a thing.  
Maglor allowed his eyes to find his father’s face, and the sad, miserable look in these eyes struck Fëanor like a whip. “Kano, what are you talking about? You know I would never hurt you.”

A long sigh left Maglor’s lips, and it’s only at this moment that Fëanor realised how poorly his son was dressed. Shabby and stained clothes, eaten by the years and the salted breeze. And his hair… Fëanor prefered not to look at it. Only his face was intact, unharmed by the year, though the glim in his eyes wasn’t the one he had known. 

“Why did you come here, atar? Will you bring me home?”  
“I don’t think there is a home for us anymore.” Fëanor managed to say, coldly, though the bitter taste upon his tongue couldn’t be ignores.

He tried to find the strength within him to finally tell off his son, to scream at him that he was a traitor, that he had no right to cast away the jewel. But the more he tried, the less he succeed, and Fëanor slowly drown into his son’s eyes, the look into them keeping him quiet. A strange, unfamiliar feeling slowly filled his mind, and Fëanor blinked as he realised what this feeling was: remorse. The last time he had felt remorse was in Logsar, the morning after, when… But Fëanor couldn’t allow himself to think of it, not now, and sternly he looked at his son.

“Kano, you…” He began, before realising that he simply couldn’t speak. He couldn’t be mad at him. All of Fëanor’s anger had vanished, carried away with the waves, and it seemed there was nothing left to be said. No accusations to state, no fury to unleash, only a sad bitterness, and regrets to share.  
”You wanted to tell me something atar?”  
“You… You look good.”  
“…Thanks…?”  
That was awkward. Unexpectedly awkward and difficult. When had he become speechless? 

For how long did they stay there, in silence, face to face with the ocean that was turning dark as the night fell onto them? None of them could tell, and none of them actually cared.

“Atar…”  
“Mhh?”  
“What are we supposed to do now?”

That was an excellent question. Fëanor had come back to Middle Earth to take back the jewels, which were actually lost, and he had came here to find Maglor to tell him off, and that seemed totally pointless now. A revenge against the dark lords could be a legitimate goal, but how could the two of them destroy Mordor?

Musing, Fëanor took his head between his hands, and suddenly he stood up with a grin as a good idea - or what he thought was a good idea - came to his mind.. “We will find the Ring, Macalaurë.”

Obviously worried, Maglor stared at his father, agape.

“We will find the Ring and destroy our enemies. Then, we’ll use the power of the Ring to free your brothers, your nephew and your grandparents. And we’ll find Nerdanel too! She certainly forgave me. And then we’ll come back here all together and have a beautiful life in Endor. How brillant is that, son?”

“Please, atar… don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the violent murders of these two crustaceans.


	12. Feathery Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, upon Taniquetil...

“Are you pouting, my lord?” Eonwë asked shyly, stepping behind the king. 

Manwë had been silent during the past weeks, only exchanging some squackings with the doves. Worried, Eonwë had kept an eye on him, as Varda as ordered, and for his own satisfaction Manwë hadn’t tried to do anything stupid.

“…Hmm.” The Elder king mumbled, barely replying to his friend, fingers absent-mindely stroking the soft feathers of a small bird. 

The herald approached, slowly, and sat beside his king. They were on the top of the highest tower on Taniquetil, and beneath them, beneath the clouds, Arda seemed so small, so frail, so far away.

“Do you wish to talk, my Lord.”

“…Hmmm.”

“Is that a yes?” Manwë’s mind was closed, an unusual habit which prevented Eonwë from understanding his king’s thoughts. Confused, the Maia started to chew his bottom lip; he had to give his king some news about the incidents which were keeping the Valar busy and worried, and he wasn’t sure the time was right for it. Yet, before he could say anything, Manwë finally decided to talk. 

“Where’s my brother?”

“Mordor.” Eonwë replied with a slow, quiet voice. “And Fëanaro found his son, Kanafinwë. They seem to be up to something, but we don’t know what it is.”

“And Miriel?” Manwë asked thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on the clouds in front of him.

“Back with Vairë.” Obviously embarassed, the Maia coughed. “She’s a bit… troubled by… by what happened.”

“…Hmmm.”

“And Namo is still slightly mad with you.”

“….Hmmm.”

Eonwë waited a bit, allowing a heavy silence to fall upon them both before he spoke again. “My lord… Do you plan to do anything?”

Slowly, Manwë turned his head, his blue eyes falling slowly on the Maia, and he stared him silently for a few long minutes.

“Eonwë… Why does nothing turn right? Why must there always be something wrong.”

“Ask you brother.” Eonwë shrugged, irritated. “If he wasn’t such a dick, everything would have been better. For everyone.”

“Watch you language, Ëonwe.” Manwë suddenly stood up with the authorioty of a king. “Remember that you’re talking about my brother. Melkor is different but he’s not…”

Rolling his eyes, Eonwë waited for the king to finish his sentence, but Manwë seemed unable to complete it.

“Alright…Yes, he’s a dick.” The Vala finally admitted. “But it’s not totally his fault.”

“He’s cruel, violent, power-hungry, rude, disrespectful. He killed, he lied, he attacked and destroyed and he has no plan to stop doing all this. Do I stop here or should I say more?”

Manwë didn’t reply, pouting again as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Because there’s more to say, my lord.” Ëonwe continued, standing up and looking at he king straight in the eye.

“I know, I know.” Whined the Vala. “He’s problematic.”

“Problematic, yes. A problematic dick. That’s the least we can say.” The Maia reached out and rested a gentle hand on the king’s shoulder. “That’s why we must stop him.”

“But I don’t want to lose him again. Even though he is a problematic dick.” Manwë whispered, tears threatening in his big blue eyes. “Maybe there’s a way to…”

“No, My lord.” Eonwë stated firmly. “He’ll never change. We already tried and everybody knows how stupid this idea was.”

“It was my idea.” A frown appearing on his forhead, Manwe stepped away. “And it wasn’t stupid. We had to try.”

The Maia prefered not to reply, for his king seemed fragil, close to a nervous breakdown and the herald didn’t want any responsiblity in it.

“Eonwë…?” Manwe asked after another silence. “… Do you think he still loves me.”

The Maia winced, for he knew the answer but was unsure of how to speak it. “I think that…You shouldn’t think about it, my lord.” It wasn’t the smarter answer, but it was still better than saying nothing. 

Unfortunately, the king didn’t seem convinced, and he stared intently at the Maia, trying to convince him, with a simple gaze, to say more. That was actually one of Melkor’s techniques, for the dark Vala could make anyone comfess anything with one gaze, and Manwë had always wished to have such a power. So many times he had tried to mimick his brother, vainly. But this time, as Manwë stared at his herald with all his might, the Maia stepped backwards. Pleased with himself, Manwë continued, his piercing eyes on the herald who was now holding his breath.

“M-My Lord… I think… I think your brother is unable to love anyone.” The Maia admitted clumsily, looking away and obviously impressed by his king’s gaze.

And as Eonwë’s words reached his mind, and his heart, Manwë suddenly froze, his features turning back to their usual softness. “Unable to love…?” He repeated with a tight voice. “Is it really what your think, Eonwë.”

The herald gave a quick nod. “That’s what everyone thinks, my lord.”

“Oh…” Sadness filling his heart, Manwë turned away. “That is… Terrible. He must feel so alone.”

Pondering the king’s words, Eonwë frowned. That was something he had never considered before, and he needed a few seconds to pull himself together. “But my lord, it was his choice, and he can only blame himself.”

“…Hmmm.“

Rolling his eyes again, Eonwë shook his shoulder to get rid of the feathers that seemed to fall from the ceiling, from everywhere, and he would have advised his king to do the same, until he remembered that Manwë coudn’t help growing a few feathers every now and then. This unfortunate habit usually happened when Manwë was happy, but recently the herald had noticed that a few troubles were enough for Manbwë to hide behind a pile of feathers he grew himself.

Some opted for the beard, Manwë prefered the feathers. 

In fact, Eonwë himself had to deal with this feathery problem, but he had always managed to look perfectly clean from any embarassing feather - Except that one time when he had swum naked in a lake with Ilmare and Olorin, and when a feather had suddenly appeared from nowhere and had been stuck on the most inaproppriate part of his anatomy. Although the Maia had tried to forget this terrible incident, the look on Ilmare’s face hadn’t left his mind, and never again Eonwë had approached any lake, for he was certain Ossë had something to do with it.

After a long pause, the Maia sighed and decided to actually do something to help his lord. He had never liked this sadness upon Manwë delicate features, and he hated to see the king in such a miserable state. Although the Maia hadn’t come upon Arda to be a babysitter for the Elder King, he couldn’t ignore the pain that glimmered in the eyes of the king, a king who had become his dearest friend.

Slowly he walked back to him, wrapped his fingers around Manwë’s arms and rested his head on the Vala’s shoulder. Manwë said nothing, and they both stay still and silent for a long while, until a new feather appeared on Manwë’s shoulder. The Maia tried to ignore it, but the feather seemed determined to tickle his chin, and he had no choice but to pull away from the king.

“Sorry…” Manwë whispered, one hand stroking the feather.

“You should do something about them too, my lord.” Said the herald, bitterly, rubbing his thumb against his chin.

The Elder King shook his head, and a cloud of new feathers popped up on his shoulders, neck and chest. “I like them. They keep me warm and they’re soft.”

Manwë’s voice was quiet, filled with a deep melancholy, and yet a small smile was now dancing on his lips. “Maybe that is what Melkor needs.” The Vala continued, still stroking the white feathers. “…Feathers. A soft pillow made of feathers. Maybe they would make him softer.”

Wincing in sheer confusion, Ëonwë pinched the bridge of his nose. “My lord… I’m not sure it would be enough to… make him softer. “

But Manwë wasn’t listening to him anymore, and as he looked towards the East, thousands of feathers appeared from nowhere, surrounding Manwë and covering him completely until ëonwë could see nothing of him but a few strands of white hair on the top of the feathery pile.

He heard a muffled voice, the king’s voice obviously, but couldn’t catch the words, and so the herald reached out to free Manwë’s face, digging into pile with his bare hands until the king’s gentle smile appeared.

“I’ll stay here for a while.” Manwë stated softly. “If Varda needs me, tell her I’m having a nap. If Namo calls me, tell him I’ll see him when he’ll stop judging me.”

And as Eonwe’s eyes widened, he heard a loud yawn soon followed by some soft, melodious snorings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, I don't think I will ever finish this fic.  
> Forgive me.


End file.
